


I'll Be Your Strong and Steady

by nothinglasts222



Category: Adam Levine (Musician), Blake Shelton (Musician), Shevine - Fandom, The Voice (US) RPF, The Voice RPF
Genre: Angst, Fanfiction, Fights, Happy Ending, M/M, OTP Feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-10
Updated: 2016-04-10
Packaged: 2018-05-29 01:16:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6353080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nothinglasts222/pseuds/nothinglasts222
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Adam gets into a fight, Blake learns the reason for his outlandish behavior, and maybe it isn't such a bad thing after all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'll Be Your Strong and Steady

Blake takes a long sip of his lukewarm beer then sets it down, scans the busy, smoke-filled room with weary eyes. He lost track of Adam a while ago, said he was off to play a game of pool. Blake doesn't worry about him having too much to drink, Adam isn't a heavy drinker like himself and he knows how to be responsible.

He takes another pull from the bottle, finishing it off before standing and slapping a five down on the counter. He walks the place, hands shoved in his pockets, taking it all in—a group of bikers shouting beneath a flat screen TV in the corner, a young waitress flirting with a middle-aged man and his buddies in a booth, the numerous games of pool being played. Problem is, Adam is at none of those games. His lanky figure isn't draped over a pool table, cue stick in hand, aiming for a ball Blake knows he'll miss because he sucks at the game but insists on playing anyway.

Blake stops a couple people, ask them if they've seen anyone by Adam's description, but they all give him hard, blank stares. Blake's not at the point yet to worry, he's just wondering, where a guy like Adam could have gone in all of this chaos.

He checks the restroom. No Adam. As he walks back out into the crowd he calls Adam's name. A man with disheveled blonde hair and a loose tie turns to look at him with glassy eyes. Blake keeps walking until a group of people crowded in a tight circle catches his attention. Some are standing on tiptoe to see over the shoulders of those in front of them; the middle ones are looking down at the floor. Blake hears a thud, shouting and clapping, and he rushes over. He shoves past people until he can make out what's going on. Adam and another man twice his size are wrestling each other. The man takes one heavily tattooed arm away, swings and lands a blow on the left side of Adam's face. Even through the blood Blake can make out Adam's face, twisted in anger and eyes blazing.

Blake shouts but he can barely hear himself above the growing noise. He watches in horror as the larger man hits Adam again, this time in the stomach, knocking the wind out of him. The man rises to his feet, people cheer, then Adam is up. He jumps effortlessly, wrapping his legs around the man's torso and ripping at his hair. The man throws him off, but Adam lands on his feet, hands in fists at his face, and they go at each other again.

Blake pushes through the barricade of now screaming onlookers and stands between the two of them. The man is huge, but not as tall as Blake, and Blake's height proves to be advantageous enough to cause Adam's attacker to back to the edge of the circle.

"Break it up!" he shouts, getting everyone's attention. Adam stumbles back a couple steps, absently wiping at blood on his lip as he glares at the other man. Blake goes to Adam and holds onto his shoulders in case he tries anything else crazy. A couple of guys, presumably the man's buddies, have joined his side, and they all stare menacingly at Blake and Adam.

"Adam, stop," Blake says into Adam's ear and he relaxes a touch, though Blake can feel tension still in all of his muscles.

"Let 'em go," one of the guy's friends says. "He ain't worth your time." The man gives one final grunt before turning his back on the group and walking away, the other three flanking him. Blake breathes a sigh of relief. Adam pulls away from his grip and storms his way through the shocked group of bystanders. Blake struggles to keep Adam in his sight. He finally makes it outside, where he's hit with a wall of cold air and the familiar sight of the back of Adam's head that he lost in the crowd somewhere along the way.

He quickens his pace. "Adam!" he shouts, his breath forming a thick cloud.

Adam turns around and Blake can't tell if he's been crying or if the alcohol Blake knows he drank is making his eyes full and shiny.

"Are you drunk?

"What? No."

"What the hell was that?"

Adam's eyes dart uneasily back to the bar entrance. Blake drops the question and wraps an arm around Adam's shivering shoulders, ushering him to his truck. He cranks the engine and turns the old heater all the way up, the cold slowly subsiding and his muscles relaxing.

Blake strips off his coat and button-down. "Here." He hands the shirt to Adam. "For your face."

"Your shirt?"

"I'll wash it. Y'need to stop that bleeding."

Adam takes it and presses it to his cheek. A few tense moments pass before Blake's question. "What happened?"

Adam pulls the material away from his face. "What makes you think it was my fault?"

"I never said I thought it was your fault. I just wanna know what made you think it was a good idea."

"It was stupid," Adam mumbles.

"Yeah it was stupid. Adam, that guy had sixty, seventy pounds on you. You could have earned yourself more than a busted lip and black eye."

"You didn't hear what he said."

"So what did he say?"

Blake hears Adam take a breath, trying to compose himself. Blake feels a pang of sympathy, he probably shouldn't be so hard on him, someone who just got the crap kicked out of him. Still, he'd like to know the damn good reason Adam had for picking a fight with that guy.

"We were playing a round," Adam begins. "Me and some other guy against him and one of his friends. We were taking shots. About halfway through the game they started talking about girls, flirting with some of the bartenders. One asked me about 'my girl' and I said I didn't have one. Then his buddy said something about being gay, or something. I guess the look on my face gave me away, I don't know, and the next thing I know they were all over me. They started calling me names and shit and I said I was done playing, put the cue and some money down and started to walk away. But they kept taunting me. That one dick followed me."

Adam pauses and looks up, stares out the windshield. "That's not the worst of it. You should have heard what he _said_ Blake." The menace in the smaller man's voice is evident. "He said, 'I'd hate to see the pathetic son-of-a-bitch that has to fuck you.'" And I fucking lost it. I whipped around and hit that motherfucker so hard..." Adam's hand balls into a fist at the memory. "Then he jumped me. So I fought back."

"Adam, you could've gotten yourself killed."

Adam looks at him. "I wasn't about to sit there and let him talk shit about us. I had to teach that bastard a lesson."

"Do you really think you changed his mind? You can't go around hitting everyone who doesn't agree with you or your life choices."

"I don't care. I just had to Blake. I'm sorry."

Blake exhales and leans his head back against the headrest. Adam just took the hit, literally, for both of them. Adam's always been fiercely loyal, has the tendency to get hot and opinionated, and doesn't always think with his head. Blake doesn't really know why he's surprised, this time is no different.

"I just don't want to see you get hurt getting riled up over something like that."

Adam's voice is small. "I know."

"There's always gonna be someone who doesn't like it. Way I figure it none of that shit matters. As long as we're happy, that's what matters."

Blake didn't think anything he said was that funny but after a few seconds Adam starts chuckling beside him. Blake looks at him. "What?"

"'Nonna dat shit madders'," Adam mocks in his ridiculous imitation accent.

"I did not say it like that," Blake retorts.

"Come on. I love your big, redneck, country self. I'll do anything I can to protect you, even if it means acting like a complete idiot. But you're right, no more fights. _But_ I'm actually not _that_ sorry about this one."

Adam has a genuine smile plastered to his face. Even under the bruises and dim light he's still beautiful as hell. Blake leans across the console and meets his lips.

Adam pulls away for a second to say, "I love you," and Blake's feelings for the younger man intensify. They don't say those three little words often, tend to rely more on actions to get the point across, but damn he'd be lying if he said it wasn't nice to hear them. Adam brings their lips together again and through the warm kiss Blake's sees what an amazing person he has in his life. Stupid, immature and cocky, but amazing.

When they part Blake adds, "Should've at least called me over, let me have a swing at them."

Adam laughs. "I would've _loved_ to have seen that." Blake puts the truck in drive and pulls out of the parking lot, heading home.

Blake figures maybe it's not so bad to have someone worth fighting for after all.


End file.
